


The Hen Night

by LissaMU



Series: Naughty Bits [7]
Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice (1995), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Darcy did not mind, F/M, Hen night, Lizzy got reeeeally drunk, Rekindled Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 02:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17071526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LissaMU/pseuds/LissaMU
Summary: Elizabeth Bennet is not excited about attending her sister Lydia's tacky hen party, but downing a bunch of shots makes it all the more tolerable. That is until she runs into an old flame in a rather embarrassing way, although he doesn't seem too put off...





	The Hen Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most recent fic I've written for this fandom. I asked my husband to give me a one sentence prompt around which I could build a story, and this fluffy naughty bit came out. In addition to describing the standard features of a typical wild British hen party (aka bachelorette party), I've put in a few references to traditions at the University of St Andrews (where I got my PhD and met DH), especially Raisin Weekend; you can read all about it on [Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/University_of_St_Andrews#Raisin_Weekend). Oh, and if you're interested, the prompt was, 'I wouldn't kick him out of bed for farting.'

‘WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Yeah girls! Let’s do this!’ Lydia Bennet shouted as she downed a double shot of tequila. She wore a dress covered in cartoon penises, a hot pink tutu with L plates stuck onto it, ridiculous stilettos with lights that flashed as she walked, a tiara, and a sash that said, ‘Kiss the bride’ on one side and ‘While you still can!’ on the other. Her sister, best friend and maid of honour, Kitty, repeated Lydia’s war cry and downed her shot in reply.

Though Kitty felt slightly aggrieved that, despite being one year older than her youngest sister, she had not yet caught a husband, she was determined to enjoy herself on what she had planned to be a wild hen night. No cliché had gone unincorporated; the bridesmaids, comprised of Lydia’s four sisters and her uni flatmates Maria and Denny (aka Big Gay Denny, aka Venus De Nyte, drag queen extraordinaire), wore pink sequin-studded cowboy hats, tutus of different colours, curly blonde wigs to match the bride’s hair, and specially printed t-shirts with a picture of Lydia holding a huge dildo on the front and ‘Bridesmaid’ plus the individual’s nickname (as decided by Lydia and Kitty) on the back. Denny, or rather, Venus as she was this evening, had been allowed to supplement her outfit with thigh-high sparkling pink platform boots, and as a nod to her t-shirt nickname of ‘Queen of the Nyte’, also wore a tiara along the brim of her cowboy hat. They were also all given plastic necklaces with, of course, penises dangling from them.

As the last of the group swallowed the cheap ‘Terrible Mistake Juice’ (as Venus christened it), a loud car horn called them outside. Pulling up to the row of terraced houses was an enormous pink stretch Humvee limousine. Lydia shrieked and trotted to it as quickly as she could in the ridiculous heels that made her walk like a newborn giraffe. The rest of the group followed suit, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. While Lydia, Kitty (‘Maid of Hotness’), Maria (‘Vajazzle’) and Venus were more than willing participants in this tackiest of tacky hen dos, the older of the Bennet sisters, Jane, Elizabeth and Mary, felt significantly more self-conscious about the affair.

Mary (‘Goody Too-Prude’), the middle sister and very much the odd duck in the family, had recently undergone a religious conversion and become tee-total; she had only attended after a promise from her mother that the family would support her in her Divinity studies at Cambridge that autumn. Jane (‘The MILF’), who was already married and had a young daughter with her husband Charles, was concerned about the message such wild and genitalia-themed hen parties sent to young girls, but was too soft-hearted to say no to her sisters. Elizabeth, meanwhile, could not have been more horrified. She was a staunch sex-positive feminist, but the ladette culture her youngest sisters revelled in did not feel like liberation to her. She had made her disapproval of the night’s plans known to Kitty, and perhaps this was why her t-shirt nickname had been ‘Dr Stick-in-the-Arse,’ a moniker made no more acceptable by the nod to her biochemistry PhD. It was only Jane’s desperate pleading that had induced her to join in the festivities, but she was already regretting it.

‘Buggering hell,’ she whispered to Jane through gritted teeth. ‘How did that monster even get down the street? Do I have to get in it?’ As it turned out, the driver needed help getting out of the narrow street, with Lizzy and Jane either side directing his 30-point turn to eventual escape. By the time they joined the others inside the limo, Lydia was mid-way through necking a half-bottle of Prosecco as Kitty, Maria and Venus chanted, ‘Down in one! Down in one!’ She announced victory with a huge belch and upturned bottle.

‘Lord, wouldn’t it be a good joke if George heard that and decided not to marry me? Good thing he’s in Amsterdam right now!’ Lydia laughed. Elizabeth had a pretty good idea of what had taken George Wickham and his pals to Amsterdam for his stag do, and it wasn’t a love of wooden shoes. She still couldn’t quite believe he had actually proposed to Lydia; their relationship had always seemed to consist mostly of alternating bouts of wild partying and furious rowing, and though both modes of dating did seem to involve epic amounts of shagging, it had never struck anyone as particularly serious or permanent. When it turned out that Lydia wasn’t even pregnant, everyone began to think that maybe they did really love each other in their own Jeremy Kyle Show sort of way. Elizabeth still didn’t like him, or the fact that he seemed to continue his womanising ways even in the run-up to the wedding, but then, Lydia apparently saw her engagement ring as a great way to pull guys at the club most weekends, so who was she to judge what worked for other people?

In fact, looking around at the faces in the Hummer, the only ones who seemed to be enjoying themselves were the ones she usually found perfectly ridiculous. If she had to go through this ordeal, she decided, she may as well try to enjoy it. _Think of it as an anthropology experiment_ , she told herself. _You’re taking part in the bizarre local mating rituals, and it is a great honour to be invited to participate_. With a nod to herself, she reached for the now-quarter-full tequila bottle and took a big swig.

‘LIIIZZZZAAAAY!’ Lydia yelled gleefully, high-fiving her with one hand and taking the bottle with the other. ‘Let’s party!’ She glugged several shots’ worth and passed it back to Elizabeth, who polished it off in another couple of swallows. Those Raisin parties at St Andrews years ago had apparently stood her in good stead for rapid imbibing, but twenty minutes later, as the limo pulled up to the Hot Muscle All Nude Males strip club, she realised that her tolerance was much lower than in those heady student days, and she was thoroughly tipsy already.

This probably explained her enthusiasm in drinking several cocktails with NSFW names, hooting at the strippers, and even accepting an all-touching lap dance from a hunky lab-coated dancer called Dr Hotstuff, a gift from Venus (who also treated Lydia to the same activity from an army-themed performer called Captain Tightpants). Even Mary allowed herself a smile as she watched the usually straight-laced Elizabeth smacking Dr Hotstuff’s arse while slurring something about academic misconduct.

At midnight the club closed, and the ladies piled back into the pink Hummer. Lydia put her arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders, now starting to slump from exhaustion and extreme drunkenness.

‘Lizzy, I’ve never seen you party like that! You were so hot for that guy!’

Elizabeth laughed. ‘Well, I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for farting!’ This side-splitting comment caused extreme hilarity, which ended only when the car pulled up to the next club, this one open until 3am. The queue was a good 20 people long, but Kitty had pre-booked a VIP package, so they were let right in via the red carpet entrance. A bottle of Champagne arrived in their booth, and it was time for the Hen Games.

A couple of rousing rounds of ‘Never Have I Ever’ made everyone a bit queasy with the new knowledge gained about Lydia’s sex life, though Venus and, surprisingly, Elizabeth, gave her a bit of a run for her money by advancing as far as, ‘Never have I ever had group sex,’ to which Elizabeth just shrugged, took a drink, and said, ‘I went to St Andrews.’

After Lydia’s disturbing win, the game changed to ‘Truth or Dare’. Lydia went first, going through with Kitty’s dare to go pee standing up in the gents. Elizabeth accepted the next dare from Lydia, which was to flash the group of lads in the VIP booth next to theirs. Taking a further sip of liquid courage, Lizzy stumbled out of her seat, dashed over to the other group, lifted her shirt and bra, cried out, ‘How do you like them apples?’ for some reason, and promptly fell over into the lap of the nearest gentleman.

‘Elizabeth Bennet?’ the man said in a startled tone. Elizabeth looked up with bleary eyes and suddenly felt ten times more sober when she realised the voice belonged to Fitzwilliam Percival Horatio Montague Darcy IV.

‘Fitzy?’ she squeaked, the only name coming to mind the one she had teasingly called him in rather more intimate situations back in their student days. His companions snickered at the appellation, but he hardly noticed as he stared at Elizabeth like she had grown a second head. He had seen her drunk before, of course. They were academic siblings and shared several boozy Raisin parties for a start, and more than once they had also ended up sharing the same bed after such shenanigans, but even then she had never been a wild and crazy drunk. Yet here she was, wearing a tutu and a variety of penises, shaking her breasts at strangers- or so she had thought- in a club.

‘What are you doing here? Why did you just do that?’ he asked in a stern voice. She frowned as she remembered having always disliked when he used that tone. He had been so arrogant back then, and apparently he still was.

‘It’s my sister Lydia’s hen do, and she dared me. And don’t you talk to me like that. You always were a stuffy wanker in front of your rich friends,’ she replied, looking around at the toothy multi-named yahs at his table. ‘I bet they still don’t know what you’re really like in private. Remember that time on International Women’s Day when I…’

‘OK, that’s enough, come on then,’ he hurriedly interrupted her, standing up with her still in his arms. ‘Let’s get you back to your party.’ Carrying her around to the next booth, he was confronted with several giggling women and Venus, who took Elizabeth from his arms without a word.

‘Jane, look!’ Elizabeth said with her head leaning sleepily on Venus’ shoulder. ‘It’s Wills Darcy. He’s still a wanker, but I wouldn’t kick _him_ out of bed for farting either!’ The group descended into raucous laughter for reasons Darcy couldn’t fathom.

Jane took a bit of pity on him, and explained, ‘Um, inside joke. You had to be there.’

‘I suspect I would rather not. Ladies, enjoy your evening.’ He gave them a nod and re-joined his friends, but left shortly thereafter with a knot in his stomach that the expensive whisky couldn’t dissolve.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, had been placed back in her seat next to Jane, and kept dozing off on her shoulder even as the others tried to extract information from her. How did she know that tall, dark and handsome chap? How many of her never-have-I-evers had he been part of? Had she ever spanked him and called him Dr Hotstuff? Eventually, tiring of Elizabeth’s slurred and sleepy responses, Lydia ordered a triple espresso and practically poured it down her sister’s throat. This brought about a temporary restoration of spirits and the story of Wills Darcy.

‘He was my academic brother at St Andrews, and at our freshers Raisin party our parents dressed us up as Hercules and Xena, except I was Hercules and he was Xena. He looked pretty hot in the metal skirt, and we ended up shagging in the garden of our academic mum’s house during the party. After that we would occasionally hook up at parties, but he was only ever really fun when he was drunk and not hanging out with his yah friends. He had a kinky streak a mile wide and we got up to all sorts, but he would barely even acknowledge me if we ran into each other under certain circumstances.

Eventually I had enough, and in fourth year I told him no more fun times. He was incredibly condescending, said that he was willing to brave the disapproval of his friends about my common background if I wanted to go out properly. I told him he could go fuck himself and his friends, and didn’t talk to him again. He tried, but I never game him the time of day. This was before Facebook and everything, so it was easier to completely lose touch with people you weren’t bothered about. That’s the first time I’ve seen him since graduation. There, satisfied?’ She filled a glass with the dregs of the Champagne and emptied it again just as quickly, slumping back into the plush lining of the booth with an angry expression.

‘Oh hell no!’ shrieked Lydia. ‘You need to tell us about this mile-wide kinky streak right now, girl!’ With a mischievous grin, Elizabeth divulged a few choice stories, from the pink g-string he liked to wear under a suit to the spankings she did indeed dispense, though instead of Dr Hotstuff, he was Lord Darcy and wore an ermine robe with nothing underneath. It belonged to his father, who had managed to hold onto his hereditary seat in the Lords, and which Wills would eventually fill. This titbit was particularly well received, with crude comments about him filling various other things as well.

Eventually Elizabeth began to flag again, and the club closed. The hens piled back into the Humvee and proceeded to update Facebook to declare the night a success as it delivered them to their respective homes.

Elizabeth awoke the next afternoon with a horrific hangover, still wearing the tutu. Her phone was in her hand, which was lying on her chest. Groggy and disorientated, she swiped it on to discover dozens of Facebook notifications. ‘What the hell?’ she muttered, trying to remember the events of the night before. Clicking through to the post that had elicited so many likes and comments, her stomach dropped. It was a picture of her in the arms of Wills Darcy, which Lydia had posted and she had shared, with the caption, _saw a nold flame 2nit, omg hes still soooo hot but a wannkr tho!_ After 20 lewd comments from her friends, there was a comment from Darcy himself. _I suppose I should be flattered that I’m still ‘soooo hot’. Hopefully you won’t still think I’m a ‘wannkr’ when I see you tonight. ;)_ This was followed by more lewd comments from her girlfriends and youngest sisters, but no more from him.

Confusion now reigned. Her post was friends protected, but _he_ had somehow commented on it. Then she noticed that Messenger also had notifications. Gulping back her nausea, she opened the messages.

 

**William Darcy is now your friend.**

_Hey Fitzy, good toooo seeee you 2nit omg im drunk sorry for bad typppppping._

**Hello Sweet Cheeks. Yes, I remember your pet name too. I am also drunk, but I can still type. Haha.**

_LOL sorry abuto the boobs thing. Nothing you havnet sen befur rite? LOL_

**Indeed, I rather enjoyed the show. It made me into a real wanker if you know what I mean.**

_Oh la la well come here and you wont have to lol_

**If we weren’t both drunk I would be there in a heartbeat, Sweet Cheeks. I’ve missed you.**

_Aww thats sweeeet!!11! lets mete tomrorrw when were sobre ok?_

**OK, I’ll pick you up. Is the address on your profile the right one?**

_Yes, Meryton Drive. See you latre im gonna sleep now bye!_

**Can’t wait, see you at 7pm.**

 

The butterflies in Elizabeth’s stomach could no longer be contained, and she ran to the bathroom to let them escape in the form of hangover sick. With a groan she noticed that it was already 3pm. No way would she be ready at 7 for anything but a hot water bottle and a pizza. With a deep breath, she returned to the message thread with Darcy.

_Hey… so, that was a bit crazy last night. How are you?_

**A bit hungover. I drank half a bottle of whisky when I got home. You?**

_Yeah, pretty bad. Listen, sorry about all that yesterday, it was Lydia’s hen do and I just didn’t think I could get through it sober, but I went a bit overboard._

**I thought you were charming. The flashing green penis around your neck really brought out your eyes. ;)**

_Haha, very funny :P Look, about meeting up tonight…_

**I’m very much looking forward to it!**

_Yeah, um, I just don’t think it’s a good idea. I feel like death warmed over, I don’t think I could stomach going out or anything._

**I agree. I was planning to bring pizza and a film. Ice cream too if your stomach can handle it. Not sure mine can. ;)**

_Oh. Well, this is kind of awkward, but I don’t really remember friending you or sending those messages last night._

**Ah. So, you don’t wish to see me?**

_I just feel a bit embarrassed, not seeing you after so long and then the first thing I do is flash my boobs at you._

***grin* I thought it seemed fitting, given our past adventures. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt the way you made me feel, Lizzy. Last night brought back some excellent memories. Very excellent.**

Elizabeth blushed, the memory of telling the other hens about some of those adventures suddenly rushing back to her. She couldn’t deny that they were excellent memories.

 

_I’m not sure what to say. We didn’t part on good terms._

**Not for lack of my trying, as you might recall. I kept trying to apologise for my rudeness and you just stopped talking to me.**

_My pride was hurt, I was young. I guess I didn’t want to hear it then._

**I hope you’ll hear it now. I am sorry for how I behaved. What I said was unpardonable, and the way I used you was reprehensible. You know not how your words have haunted me.**

_Wow, that degree in English Literature really paid off! ;)_

**I can but hope that my silver tongue might win back your favour, lady. :)**

_If it’s anything like it used to be, that seems likely!_

**O_O I’ll take that as a challenge! See you at 7?**

 

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, then typed back, _Yes, see you at 7. Bring a Meat Feast Stuffed Crust from Asda, I need lots of lard to soak up this hangover._

**Will do. Anything else you want me to bring?**

_Still got that ermine? >;)_

**Oo-er missus! I’ll see if I can dig it out! See you soon, Sweet Cheeks.**

_Later Fitzy. :-*_

A shower and three large cups of builder’s tea brought Elizabeth somewhat closer to feeling human, and at five to six she switched on the oven to be ready for the pizzas. Bang on seven, her doorbell rang. Darcy hadn’t brought the ermine after all, but he was carrying two big supermarket pizzas and another surprise treat.

‘Irn Bru?! Where did you find that?’ Elizabeth exclaimed.

‘They actually had it in the Asda, and I couldn’t resist. Vile stuff, but nothing can cure a hangover quite like Bru.’

‘You’re right about that. I haven’t had this in years! Come in, come in, let me take those off your hands.’ Darcy followed Elizabeth into the kitchen, where the pizzas went into the oven and the bright orange liquid went into two glasses. ‘Here’s to Irn Bru, made in Scotland from gurrrdurrrs!’

‘Good lord, was it always this sweet?’ Darcy grimaced after his first sip. ‘I think hummingbirds might think twice about drinking this.’

‘Yes, absolutely horrific,’ Elizabeth replied, downing the rest of her glass. ‘I feel better already. So, what films have you brought?’

‘Ah, well, I couldn’t actually think of anything, so I thought we could peruse Netflix or something.’

‘Are you saying you want to Netflix and chill?’ Elizabeth asked with a smirk. Darcy furrowed his brow.

‘The way you said that makes me think there’s a hidden meaning to that expression with which I’m not familiar. Is this something the kids today are saying?’ Elizabeth laughed heartily and explained the term. ‘Oh, I see. Well, I would certainly not be opposed to some “and chill” if you’re offering,’ he replied, raising an eyebrow and taking a step closer to her.

‘Let’s start with the Netflix and see how we get on, shall we?’ she suggested with a blush. He agreed and they sat at the kitchen table to have a general catch-up on their lives while the pizza warmed up. She got her PhD from Cambridge and was now working for a biotech start-up in Hertfordshire, and he had gotten his law degree and was working at a practice in north London. It turned out they only lived a few miles apart from each other, but since she went north for work and he want south, and she shopped at Asda and he shopped at Waitrose, they didn’t really cross paths. He had been at a workmate’s leaving do last night, and otherwise rarely went out due to working long hours trying to make junior partner in record time. He was just building up the courage to ask if she had anyone special in her life when the oven timer buzzed.

‘At last!’ Elizabeth jumped up and extracted the pizzas onto plates, refilled their glasses, and they carried everything back to the living room to settle in front of the telly. ‘So, what shall it be? Action? Comedy? Romance?’

‘No blood and guts, and no Hugh Grant, other than that I’m easy.’

‘You and your Hugh Grant aversion, so irrational! Fine, how about ‘The Breakfast Club’? Total classic!’

‘Why not, who doesn’t love a good 80s soundtrack?’ The pizzas were polished off within the first few minutes of the film, and Elizabeth and Darcy soon found themselves chatting again instead of paying attention to it. ‘So, er, I take it you don’t have a flatmate or anything?’ Darcy asked in what he hoped was a subtle manner.

‘No, thankfully I can afford to have my own place. Renting still sucks, but at least I don’t have to share my space. How about you?’

‘I bought a little one-bedroom flat about a year ago, it needed some work, so I got it for a good price. London prices definitely make me miss Scotland though. I’ve sometimes fantasised about moving back, but I’m qualified in common law, not Scots law, so I’d have to do a conversion course.’

‘I miss it too, but I also worry that if I went back as an adult it just wouldn’t feel the same. As it is, I have all those great memories of student life, and they can’t be diminished by throwing grown-up responsibilities onto the experiences I enjoyed back then.’

Darcy turned his body so he could face her and tentatively stroked her arm with one finger. ‘There are definitely some experiences I would happily revisit.’

Elizabeth blushed again and smiled, but felt unable to meet his intense gaze. ‘You’re not disappointed with the havoc the past ten years have wrought on me then?’

‘On the contrary. I think you’re even more attractive now than you were then. More womanly.’ His eyes swept up and down her form and unconsciously licked his lips. ‘Luscious.’ Elizabeth felt herself growing very warm and remembered how frequently he had been able to have this effect on her. Chemistry was one thing they had never lacked.

‘You’re not looking so bad yourself. I like the longer sideburns. Did some girlfriend finally manage to talk you into growing them?’ she asked in what was her attempt to probe his relationship status.

‘Not much time for girlfriends lately. This is just my concession to the hipster zeitgeist. What about you, a boyfriend finally convinced you to bin the GHDs and leave your natural curls?’

‘Also not much time for boyfriends, and I just got tired of having to wake up half an hour earlier to straighten the damn things. Besides, in the past I’ve been told they’re cute,’ she said smilingly, as he had in fact been the one to say that. Darcy, however, was no longer smiling.

‘So… we’re both single, and both still attractive. There’s an interesting situation.’ He moved a few inches closer and brushed a hair off her cheek. ‘Very interesting, I would say.’

‘Very interesting,’ Elizabeth repeated with a slight hitch in her voice. ‘Seems wrong somehow, such attractive people not getting any. Something must be done about it.’

‘I can think of something,’ Darcy said breathlessly just before pulling her tight and kissing her passionately. She immediately melted into his arms, their bodies remembering just how to come together. Somehow he was on top of her, her legs wrapped around his waist, her fingers in his hair, his hands wandering over her breasts as he began kissing her neck. ‘Oh Lizzy,’ he moaned between kisses, ‘it’s like only a day has passed. I want you as much now as I ever did at uni. More, even.’

‘I guess you’d better fuck me then,’ Elizabeth replied between gasps as his hands reached under her top and he ran his thumb over her nipples.

‘I thought you’d never ask!’ Darcy picked her up and carried her to the bedroom with her legs still wrapped around him. He set her down and they pulled off their clothes as quickly as they could manage, at which point he picked her up again and put her on the bed. He kissed her again and then began working his way down her body, sucking and gently biting on her nipples, leaving little hickeys down her sides, and finally burying his face between her legs to make her come three times in quick succession. When he finally came up for air, she took the initiative to roll him onto his back with the intention of returning the favour, but he stopped her partway down. ‘I’m not sure I can take it Lizzy, I’m close to the edge as it is.’

‘We’ve got plenty of time to get you back up again afterwards,’ she leered just before taking him completely into her mouth. True to his word, she needed only a brief effort for her result. With both of them temporarily spent, Elizabeth snuggled up under his arm and sighed happily. ‘Silver tongue still in full effect, Mr Darcy.’

‘Glad to hear it, Dr Bennet.  Your efforts in teaching me were not wasted.’

‘You were always an ardent pupil. I’ll admit, I was a bit disappointed not to see the pink thong make an appearance.’

‘You’ll have to buy me a new one, I lost it when I left St Andrews. I actually think my pervy flatmate John nicked it thinking it was yours.’

‘Urgh, John Willoughby? That guy was such a sleaze. I’m sure he used to listen to us shagging when we were at your place.’

‘I wouldn’t put it past him. Hence why Lord Darcy only ever made an appearance at your place.’

‘Haha! I hope you haven’t lost the ermine, I was disappointed not to see that as well.’

‘Bad timing, Parliament is opening next week and it’s at the cleaners.’

‘Ah well, maybe next time then.’ Realising what she had said, Elizabeth blushed again, embarrassed from having assumed too much. As if reading her mind, Darcy gave her a squeeze.

‘I do hope there is a next time. Not that we’re done with this time.’ He tilted her chin up and brought his lips to hers again, soft pecks quickly turning into deep fiery kisses. She ran her hand over his chest, down to his stomach, and began stroking him. He was hard again, and Elizabeth reached for a condom from her nightstand, double-checked that it was still in date, and wasted little time in rolling it on with a combination of her hands and mouth. Eager to be inside her, he moaned her name and begged her to hurry. Ever obliging, she positioned herself on top of him and plunged down with gasp as he shuddered with pleasure and clamped his hands on her hips to keep her from moving right away.

After a few moments to let him compose himself, Elizabeth started moving her hips, slowly at first and then building up the tempo until she was riding him fiercely and screaming with ecstasy. He grabbed the headboard so tightly that his knuckles went white, trying desperately not to finish too soon, wanting her to take as much pleasure as she could from his body. Finally, he couldn’t hold back any longer and cried out with the force of his orgasm. Elizabeth, legs trembling, flopped onto her back with panting breaths.

‘Fuuuuck,’ she whispered as Darcy cleaned himself up, ‘that was good.’

‘Damn good,’ he agreed, rolling onto his side and running a hand along her skin again. He figured he would not be ready again for a while, but there was plenty of enjoyment to be had in the meantime. His lips found her nipples again, tongue flicking until they hardened again. Her moans encouraged him, and he went on top again, licking down her body, along her thighs, nibbling at the backs of her knees to make her giggle. Coming back up to kiss her lips again, his fingers drifted down to stimulate her, entering her as his thumb circled her clit and made her wet and ready for him again.

To his surprise, he was also already showing signs of recovery, and a few more minutes of heavy petting had him raring to go. He slipped on a condom himself this time, then had her turn onto all fours so he could enter her from behind. He was fast and furious this time, pounding into her as hard as he could, grabbing her breasts with one hand while smacking her arse with the other. She squealed with delight, arching her back and pushing hard against him. He grabbed her hips as his final thrusts sent him over the edge once more and they collapsed into a heap. Exhausted, he kissed her shoulders before rolling over onto his back.

‘You… are still… very good… at that!’ Lizzy panted.

‘And you still bring out the animal in me,’ Darcy growled. ‘I can hardly look at you without wanting to fuck your brains out. When I saw you last night, I just… mmm. When you friended me on Facebook and we had that flirty exchange, I got out all the pictures I had of you and had to seriously sort myself out.’

‘Well, I can’t blame you. That tutu was dead sexy.’ They both laughed and snuggled up a bit closer, becoming lost in their own thoughts as the strains of ‘Don’t You Forget About Me’ came through from the living room. ‘Oh! I should go turn off the telly. Be right back.’ Without bothering to put anything on, Elizabeth went through on slightly shaky legs as Darcy enjoyed the view. She came back with a glass of water, which he accepted gratefully. ‘So, what’s the plan now?’ Elizabeth asked, setting the empty glass on the nightstand and curling against him again.

‘Hmm, well, I think we should date for a few months just for the sake of respectability, then get engaged, have a lavish wedding, spend two weeks in a tropical paradise shagging each other’s brains out on honeymoon, and live happily ever after.’ This elicited a slightly nervous laugh from Elizabeth.

‘Oh. Well, I meant the rest of tonight, like are you ready for ice cream, and do you want to stay over or should I call you a cab or something?’

‘Sorry, getting a bit ahead of myself. I’d like to stay over if you don’t mind, I seem to remember you being particularly fantastic at morning sex.’

‘You remember right. Now, about that ice cream.’

Six months later the engagement announcement for Mr Fitzwilliam Percival Horatio Montague Darcy IV, son of Lord and Lady Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire, and Dr Elizabeth Mabel Bennet, daughter of Thomas and Fanny Bennet of Longbourn, Hertfordshire, appeared in The Times, followed another six months later by the marriage announcement. Elizabeth opted for a rather more subdued hen party than the one that had so changed her life a year earlier, though Lydia did manage to secure a house call from Dr Hotstuff. As Darcy had predicted, he and Elizabeth spent two weeks in a tropical paradise (a private beach owned by his family) shagging each other’s brains out, and then lived happily ever after.


End file.
